


Mask

by bexacaust



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Medical Trauma, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We wear the mask that grins and lies, <br/>It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— <br/>This debt we pay to human guile; <br/>With torn and bleeding hearts we smile.” -  Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872 - 1906</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mask

Genji sat across from Zenyatta.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“You once told me… about honesty.”

Zenyatta looked up, helm tilting before he nodded, “Yes, many times. Honesty with the self, with the world… why?”

“Because… I fear being honest. With you. Truly honest.”

“Why is that, Genji?”

“I fear that should I show you the truth, you will see me as a monster; as the world has. And that… That you will abandon me. As my world has.”

As my family has.

As my brother has.

Zenyatta shook his helm, reaching over to gently lift Genji’s chin with slim digits, “Genji, I will not leave save for you asking me to. For as long as you wish, I shall be by your side.”

“Even though I am an abomination?”

“You have never shown me to be such, Genji. I do not pander to the lies of those who refuse to understand.”

Genji was quiet and reached behind his helm.

“What you feel, what you see… is not my face, Master.”, he whispered, voice shaking, “My face is abhorrent, it is vile. It is scars and sin.”

“…Show me, young heart. And I will make my own judgments.”

The mask clattered away, and Genji closed his torn eyelids with difficulty. The cool feeling of Zenyatta’s hands drifting over his skin made him shift as he perched on his knees.

His badly healed cheekbones heated as cold touch drifted over them, his chipped teeth clenched together as Zenyatta ran a single digit over a crooked nosebridge. As Zenyatta brushed away tears than ran down crooked along keyloidal scars like a botched lobotomy.

His dented chin was brushed by a thumb, and Genji hiccuped. Why, _why_ was his master being so gentle with him? He was a weapon, a creation; a new age Frankestein’s monster.

“I am… I am a **monster.** ”, he whispered as Zenyatta’s fingertips traced his gouged lips.

“You are **Genji.** ”, was the murmured answer as hands cupped his face, “And to me, you are **_beautiful._** ”


End file.
